A benign incident at church on Palm Sunday was revealing with respect to an important aspect of child development.
My daughter, her husband and two young sons were visiting from Denver. The occasion was the baptism/dedication of the younger child–Harmon, 15 months old–with the Reverend “Grandpa” Knight the officiant.
As the service began, children were recruited to form the tradition of a procession bearing palms. A brass quartet of teenagers was playing as the children processed around the sanctuary a couple of times before being seated on the chancel steps facing the congregation.
What is commonly called “the children’s sermon” was to come next in the order of service. Except the youthful brass quartet hadn’t finished playing. So the stately music continued longer than any kid, caught in such circumstances, should be expected to necessarily accommodate, however appropriately or otherwise.
That’s when Harmon’s older brother–Shepard, who will turn five later this month–when he began mimicking the trombone player.
Not that Shepard isn’t “pretty full of himself,” having been stimulated sufficiently by his parents. He’s highly verbal, colorful, imaginative and entertaining–a subjective grandparent might even consider him to be rather prodigious–and hardly lacking for attention, even with the presence of a new baby brother.
So I suspect his pretending to be playing the trombone in the brass quartet was unwitting, at least initially–something he has often done when music was playing in his presence, as in watching a marching band on television or having attended a live concert or parade.
It wasn’t long, however–as the brass quartet persisted–that the congregation began to giggle in amusement at Shepard’s engaging performance. Which–rather than inhibiting him–seemed to inspire him even further.
After all, it was his little brother who was the center of attention on that day. So why–I imagine him reasoning–why shouldn’t he share in at least a bit of the limelight? Given, of course, that he has hardly been a child deprived of sufficient attention, thus likely assuming a typical child’s distorted perspective on how much of such attention is ever enough.
That’s when Shepard’s dad stepped forward from a pew near the front of the church, gesturing for Shepard to cease and desist his imaginary trombone playing. The son’s behavior having apparently provoked the father’s sense of propriety. While at the same time, the woman who was to give “the children’s sermon” gestured for Shepard’s dad to leave his son alone. At which he quietly retreated to his seat.
I suspect the awkwardness of that moment was lost on anyone but the most anxious adults. Meanwhile, the brass quartet finally finished playing, the woman delivering “the children’s sermon” gave her presentation, the younger children filed out of the sanctuary for further, more appropriate “children’s activities” in another part of the church, the older children returned to sit with their parents or other adults while the service continued, proceeding to its conclusion.
As for what I’ve just described, with respect to child development, I’ve often observed children being put in circumstances–particularly in public–where they were, developmentally, unable to behave in ways unknowing adults would consider appropriate.
In the grocery store, a restaurant, a doctor’s office, at church or other public gatherings–I’ve observed parents or others scolding a youngster for behaving in age-appropriate ways, given the stress of the setting in which an adult had, often of necessity, put the child.
In the scenario I just described, as benign as it was, my grandson’s imaginary trombone playing wouldn’t have likely evoked the amused reaction of the congregation–thus seeming to inspire Shepard–in the way it did, had the brass quartet stopped playing at least two verses sooner than when it finally concluded.
Shepard was merely doing something he often does–making imaginary music–more often privately than necessarily publicly. Not that my grandson isn’t given to “performing” when a suitable “audience” is available. Or, for that matter, the teenagers in the brass quartet should be criticized for playing longer than necessary; after all, they were just kids too, they’d practiced devotedly in order to present the piece and surely wanted to thoroughly express their opportunity to perform.
More particularly, the so-called “children’s sermon” has, for most of my adult life, been a popular feature in Protestant worship services. However, sensitive and insightful Christian educators have been just as critical of the practice. Explaining that children, in such a setting, tend to be used merely as “props” while some adult tells them a story often more appropriate for other adults than necessarily for kids. Or as one often hears an adult commenting on the worship service at her/his church: “I like the ‘children’s sermon’ better than the regular one.”
Indeed, the integrity of educating children is typically compromised in proportion to the number of adults “looking on.” As in the criticism often leveled at “little league sports.” Or as someone has observed: “The kids are fine–it’s the parents that are the problem.”
Where church is concerned, it is not uncommon for some kid to “steal the show” during a “children’s sermon” by asking or answering a question the congregation finds humorous (or even ridiculous) and naturally reacting with throes of laughter.
As, for example, when the woman (“children’s sermons” are typically offered by women) asked the children, “Why is it important to be quiet in church?”
And one little boy, raising his hand to be called on, answered: “Because there are people who are sleeping!”
Knowing Shepard as I do, I wouldn’t have been surprised if, had the music not continued too long following the children’s Palm Sunday procession, he might have found–rather than his simulated trombone playing–some other way to “show off.”
The situation I’ve described was indeed a vivid illustration of what I have often observed: a child being put in a situation, often in public–for which s/he is not responsible–and thus behaving in ways that, given the stress of the circumstances, were not age-inappropriate. Even though the child’s parent(s) or other adults may have unknowingly been, if not entertained, critical of or embarrassed by such behavior.
